Sometimes it's just like that
by pfangirl
Summary: Two very different, but similarly driven, young women form an unlikely friendship. A collection of stories dealing with Lara Croft and Sam Nishimura's college year misadventures and experiences, pre-Yamatai. Consists of original fics and standalone extracts lifted from my longer works Easier to Run and Can't Go Home.
1. Chapter 1

**Sometimes it's just like that - Lara**

_Note: This is a chapter from my M-rated story Easier to Run, but it also functions as a standalone account of how Lara and Sam met at college._

Things were finally coming together.

Now that she was fully registered, the phone calls from Mr Dorchester seemed to be decreasing in frequency and exasperated intensity. There really wasn't a point anymore. Roth certainly didn't disagree with her intentions – in fact, she was sure he'd signalled approval when he gave her one of his single armed hugs in response to the news. The family solicitor, though, had fought her every step of the way.

"This is all completely unnecessary, Lara. You can practically walk into your father's alma mater, or your mother's for that matter. You've been accepted at both, and they are far more prestigious than that college in London you've selected for some inexplicable reason." She heard papers rustling on the other side of the line. "As for this obstinate refusal of yours to accept the funds for your education, it's highly misguided. It's not the inheritance you insist on locking away so tightly. This money has been earmarked for your university studies since before you were born. If your parents were here today, it's exactly what they would be using, so there is no reason to constantly reject..."

Lara found it difficult to get a word in once the lawyer started. She'd eventually settled on the strategy of letting him talk himself out, and then, once the "conversation" was over, silently doing what she originally intended anyway.

It had been a good day. She'd even landed a part-time job, despite resistance from Mr Ansell, the proprietor at The Nine Bells. She could tell he had no problems with her single page resume when he scanned it in front of her. It was padded with hands-on jobs she'd taken during school holidays, as well as Summers with Roth. However, the more times the barman's eyes darted over her, the more a scowl set in.

Eventually he grumbled, "You're too soft, girl. Worse than that, you're posh."

Lara was taken aback at that comment. She'd never been on the receiving end of it before, and wasn't sure how to respond. It turned out she didn't have to, because Ansell offered his explanation immediately.

"Posh. I can hear it in your voice. You reek of a public school upbringing – I bet you even play polo. And some of my regulars, they won't like that. They'll eat you alive."

She wasn't sure where the retort came from, but Lara felt herself prickle. She straightened completely. "No, they won't. I can look after myself. And I need this job, Mr Ansell."

His response was silence, and they stood for a moment simply sussing each other out; on one side a grizzled, two-stone overweight pub owner, and on the other little more than a fresh-faced schoolgirl barely used to liberation from blazers and knee-high socks.

Still, the young woman didn't let her gaze waver, and Ansell finally muttered, "Let me see your hands."

She presented her palms to him. They were rough and calloused – climber's hands. Their battered state seemed to placate him. "Hmmph." He added gruffly, "You're on trial for a week, Croft." He nodded his head, "Come back tomorrow night for training, starting 5pm sharp."

His voice and demeanour hadn't softened at all, but Lara found herself gushing with gratitude nonetheless.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr Ansell, sir."

"I'll be watching you closely, Croft. So don't bugger up or you're out."

"I won't disappoint you, Mr Ansell."

She was beaming as she entered the residence. Students, most of them First Years like her, were still moving in before the start of the new uni year. It was all noise and general chaos, but Lara was in good spirits. She already had her celebratory evening mapped out. Tea, biscuits and a head start on her Archaeology 110 textbook. She'd just resisted the urge to check out a fat tome on the Champa Kingdom from the library. God, what a delicious selection of books – it was one of the reasons she had selected the college. She couldn't wait to get stuck in.

She strolled down the corridor to her dorm room, balancing her paper cup of tea on the set works in her arms. She had already kind of succumbed to temptation, and flipped over the top book so she could read the lengthy blurb on its back cover.

It was probably why she didn't see the obstacle before her shin connected with it mid stride. Her momentum was enough to topple her. And with her hands full there was nothing to stop her fall.

"Shit!"

She crashed down on her front. Squashing the full cup of tea between her chest and textbook.

For a heartbeat she just lay there, sprawled in the hallway. Then she realised the racket had stopped. Everyone on the floor was staring at her. Some were even trotting forward to help her.

The first person at Lara's side was a Japanese girl. Except it turned out she was actually American when she opened her mouth. Not that Lara absorbed a single word her Good Samaritan said.

Dazed, the Englishwoman looked back at what had tripped her. A box of camera equipment. The American followed Lara's gaze and immediately winced. She kept apologising and was already trying to tug her companion upright.

Lara resisted the urge to yank her elbow away as she got to her feet. She wasn't hurt. Well, not physically. She was a bit winded but fortunately her tea had just been warm; not hot. So while her shirt was sopping, she wasn't scalded. Her cheeks, however, felt like she had just opened an oven door in her face. And her heart wouldn't stop hammering.

She found herself muttering robotically, "I'm fine, really, it's alright, I'm fine." Over and over she repeated it as she pawed at her top.

She turned to retrieve her books and discovered that the American girl already had them in her hands. She was using her sleeve to mop up the spilled tea. When she paused to study the one mottled, blistered cover, Lara seized the opportunity to snatch the reading materials back from her.

"Thank you," the English girl said all too brusquely, before she darted towards her room – head down to avoid the eyes still on her.

_Lara, could you have made a bigger fool of yourself?_

* * *

The following afternoon, she was reading on her bed in a bid to distract herself from the prospect of her first night at the Nine Bells. It wasn't really working. The confidence she expressed the previous day felt just like that – bluster with no basis. It was like a just-formed layer of ice over a Winter lake. As soon as her abilities were tested, the illusion of solidity would crack and she'd plunge down into the breath-stealing water while everyone watched.

She was rereading the same sentence for the fifth time when there was a knock on the door. Lara thought about ignoring it for a moment, but then decided she actually craved an interruption to haul her out of her head.

Standing on the threshold was the pretty Japanese-American girl from the day before. She clutched a cheesy souvenir Union Jack mug with a Terry's Chocolate Orange wedged inside. Immediately, she thrust the mug out at the bemused English student, and started rambling.

"Here, this is just a little something to apologise for yesterday. I felt really bad…"

Lara tentatively accepted the offering. "Thank you. It's lovely, but, uh, it's quite unnecessary."

"No, it is." The girl scowled at herself. "I wasn't thinking. I'm a complete ditz sometimes. I shouldn't have left my equipment out in the hallway like that."

_Oh, well that explained the gift and apology._

The girl was still talking. "You looked really upset. And you could have been badly hurt. It was all my fault…"

The girl looked really upset herself.

Lara studied the mug. It was a nice gesture. And, come to think about it, the first time anyone had ever done something like that for her.

That made summoning a smile easier. She murmured, "It's very sweet of you."

That seemed to snap the girl out of her self-loathing. "It's Samantha by the way. Well, Sam."

"Lara."

"I'm four rooms that way." Sam nodded in the direction of the stairwell. Then she chuckled, "Although I think you already know that."

Lara returned her companion's grin. It was all she could think to do. She was terrible at sustaining small talk. She could feel skittishness settling into her bones as the silence between the two young women lengthened.

Her eyes dipped to the apology gift, and a brainwave struck. She plucked out the chocolate ball. "Would you like a slice?"

The American girl looked confused. "A slice?"

"I'll show you."

Lara led the way back into her dorm room, with Sam following close behind.

The English girl didn't even know her companion but she suspected Sam was insatiably curious; that an invitation into someone's personal space would translate for her into "Please feel free you stick your nose into everything."

So Lara wasn't surprised when she turned around and found Sam already assessing the contents of her desk, and the pin board above it.

She held up Lara's copy of Hiragana and Katakana for Beginners. "I thought you were an archaeology major?"

"I am. That's more of a personal project. I want to specialise in Asian archaeology and I think it'll be useful."

"You're learning Japanese… for _fun_? Jesus, I am never introducing you to my father. He'll disown me on the spot and adopt you instead."

That made Lara laugh. She tugged off the blue sticker that kept the chocolate's wrapping in shape, and began peeling back the orange covering. She showed Sam the sweet nestled inside. Still smiling, she explained, "This is the best part," and tapped the confectionary on her bed frame. Instantly, the ball cracked into a dozen individual segments.

Lara offered the chocolate to Sam, and then popped a piece in her own mouth.

When the archaeology student looked up again, she found that Sam had moved on to examine the poster on the pin board – a dramatic silhouetted shot of a woman climbing the Dolomites at dawn.

Sam sighed, "I really need a GoPro if I'm ever going to do anything like that."

"You _climb_?"

It was am undeniably rude reaction but she couldn't supress the surprise in her voice. At first glance Sam was the dainty Asian girl stereotype; small and slender with not a pound of muscle on her.

Lara's companion seemed unfazed by the shock that greeted her admission. "Yeah. Not very well though. Nothing even close to this." She continued to stare at the image. Suddenly she spun around, "That's not you, is it?"

"In the photo?" Lara chuckled. "No. But my, uh, uncle, he's promised to take me after graduation."

Sam's eyes lit up. "Hey, the uni has a really awesome bouldering wall. You keen to try it out sometime?"

"Yeah. I – I'd like that."

Delicious warmth spread through Lara's chest and out to her limbs. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been invited to share in any experience. She'd spent so many of her school days as an amiable but shy outsider that she had grown accustomed to being alone. Sam's inclusion was a wonderful feeling.

"Awesome," Sam grinned. "Well, I better go. I'll see you around, Lara. And I'm sorry again."

Still dazed by the girl's self-assurance – as if she'd been physically punched by it – Lara simply raised a hand as Sam vanished around the corner.

* * *

It was over a fortnight before Lara and Sam spoke properly again. They'd greet each other in the hallway and on campus, but between two part-time jobs and her full-time studies, Lara's life had shrunk down to books, beer serving and her pillow during a few snatched hours of sleep. There was no time for socialising.

Sam, meanwhile, was always part of a crowd whenever Lara saw her. That made approaching the American girl challenging. Sam would always try and wave Lara over, but a heartbeat after she entertained the prospect of joining them, the English girl pictured herself standing silent and stiff off to one side, forcing a smile while Sam and her friends interacted effortlessly.

It became easy for Lara to accept the notion that Sam was just one of those people whose charisma and fun-loving spirit meant she was never alone. Others were automatically drawn to her. Lara was just one of many. At the same time, her popularity meant that Sam's promises and invites were largely worthless. She was too busy mingling. So Lara wasn't expecting to hit the climbing wall with her res-mate any time soon. It was just one of those things. Life continued.

* * *

Life continued until the evening Lara entered the deserted communal kitchen and found Sam in tears. The American girl was sitting on the counter in front of the microwave, cradling her mobile phone.

Lara approached slowly but it was enough for Sam to snap her head up at the interruption. She immediately began sniffing back her tears, and faked a smile

"Are you alright?" It was a stupid question. Of course she wasn't, but Lara was awful at this sort of thing. "Is there someone I can call?"

"No."

_But she had so many mates?_

Sam leapt up. "I'm sorry. I'm being stupid."

She tried to slide past Lara but the English girl stopped her by placing a hand on her shoulder. "Can – Can I help, Sam?"

"Not really." She rolled her still-wet eyes. "I just feel like I'm making a horrible mistake."

That sounded serious, and Lara must have looked seriously concerned because Sam immediately clarified, "Well, more correctly I'm being made to feel like I'm making a horrible mistake."

That was more understandable for Lara. She smiled wryly, "I know that feeling. Would you like to talk about it?"

Sam shrugged. Then her eyes settled on the instant noodle cup in Lara's hand. "God, we've got like four more years of eating this shit. Come on, sweetie, I'm taking you out for dinner."

She seized Lara's hand, and started dragging the English girl towards the door.

_Way to avoid the issue._

"Sam!"

An excuse was already forming on Lara's lips, when an internal voice berated her. _Lara, this isn't school any more. You aren't forced to spend time with anyone. If you don't make the effort you won't make any friends._

* * *

So less than thirty minutes and four briskly strode blocks later she found herself sitting opposite Sam in a hokey little Indian restaurant. The place clearly had a following among the pence-counting academic community. The two girls were surrounded by students and lecturers in the sit-down section of the eatery. Meanwhile, the takeaways counter was even busier. The phone rang non-stop, and people were milling around, waiting for their orders to be presented in plastic shopping bags.

With a different garish colour on every wall, metallic-accented paintings of Hindi gods and a tiny TV mounted in the corner that was showing Subcontinent cricket, the family-run restaurant was about as unpretentious as you could get.

Lara immediately liked it.

She was also surprised to discover how much she liked red wine. She didn't drink much normally, but while they waited for their curries, Sam kept topping up her glass from a giant carafe placed on the table. As a result, the English girl was beginning to feel decidedly unlike herself. Relaxed. Witty. Smooth. She let a silly smile seize her lips; the alternative was her starting to giggle.

Not that she thought her companion would mind. Sam seemed a lot looser herself, but she was still avoiding the issue of what had upset her back at the residence. Lara would have pushed the topic, except she realised that Sam was scrutinising her; head cocked to one side, and chin resting on her knuckles.

Her stare was so disconcertingly intense that Lara dropped her gaze to her napkin-draped lap.

Sam frowned, again more at herself than her companion. "Sorry, I'm just trying to get my head around you."

"Really?" Lara looked up. "How so?" To give herself something to do, she tore a piece off the naan bread that had already arrived.

Sam leaned in, conspiratorially. "I mean you're this complete nerd, right, but then you look like a freakin' supermodel. I've see guys literally drool when you walk past, and yet you're just so adorably unaware or awkward. What's up with that?"

It felt truly bizarre, like they were gossiping about another person. Lara had never been forced to examine herself like that. She blushed, "I don't know how to respond to that."

"Tell me what you do for fun?"

Lara made the mistake of going with the obvious, honest answer. "I read mostly."

"_Seriously_?"

"Uh…" She ransacked her mind for something more exciting to appease Miss Life and Soul of the Party. "I really like to travel. Climbing. Archery sometimes. Running. I honestly don't have much time –"

Two male students entered the restaurant.

Sam flashed them a smile, which was instantly returned. _God, she was good at this._

The segue in conversation was obvious.

Sam leered across the table at Lara, "No boyfriend tied up in your wardrobe?"

"No."

That was another thing she hated being grilled about – she'd kissed a boy or two in her teens as a result of socials and forced interactions with her school's brother establishment. But dating had never been a priority for her. Or shagging. She assumed that her hormones had yet to kick in, or they were faulty, or she was an asexual.

She was embarrassed about it. So much so that she could no longer meet Sam's loaded gaze. She let her eyes settle on the front door instead, at the exact moment it opened and a stunning Indian girl entered.

Sam shifted in her seat to track Lara's line of sight.

That did it. The American girl wiggled her eyebrows. "What about a girlfriend then?"

Red cheeked, Lara gaped at her.

Fortunately the inquisition was momentarily halted by the arrival of their curries. Lara had chosen the butter chicken. Sam went with something impossible to pronounce. When the English girl asked what it was, her companion shrugged, "Psshhh, I have no idea. Sounded exotic and exciting though."

Halfway through their meal, Sam paused to refill the wine glasses. She used the opportunity to restart the conversation.

"I'm curious..."

_No shit._

"…If you're such a brain, Lara, why aren't you at Oxford or Cambridge or something? Why here?"

Lara swallowed, and dabbed her mouth before answering. "I didn't want to be accused of trading on my family name. My father was prominent in his field. I don't think the shadow of his reputation will fall on me here. Or, I hope it won't."

Sam frowned. "_Was_? Did he die?"

Dead always sounded less blockbuster-dramatic than disappeared. The last thing Lara wanted was for Sam to think she was any more of an oddity, and probe deeper. So she sighed, "Yes, when I was eleven. In a plane crash; both he and my mother."

"God, when I was eleven I used to wish my parents would vanish."

The memories struck her like a boxing combo. One: Her arms wrapped tight around her mother's waist, her face pressed into the reassuring scent and warmth of Amelia Croft. Two: The first time she returned to Croft Manor after her parents' disappearance, and how the overwhelming desolation drove her, panicked and desperate, to her mother's walk-in closet. Hours later, Winston found her there, asleep in a nest of clothing she'd tugged off shelves and hangers. Even unconscious she wouldn't release her mother's soft fleecy nightgown. Of Amelia's entire wardrobe, it smelled like her most of all.

So Lara couldn't stop herself. Her mouth dropped open. "That's horrible."

"Yeah, well I'm not a particularly nice person, so." Sam's eyes dropped to her plate.

The relaxed intimacy between the girls had disappeared. Somehow they had detoured into Emo-ville.

Eventually Lara murmured, "Are your parents the reason you were crying earlier."

"In part, yeah."

Sam's head dipped, before popping up barely five seconds later. The slumped shoulders had been replaced with straight tempered steel. She was scowling. "Do I look like an accountant to you, Lara? Or a lawyer? I mean, sure I'd be a fabulous lawyer, but _seriously_?! My parents are pissed that's not what I've signed up for. My academic advisor won't even back me up."

"What are you studying?"

"Filmmaking. I really want to make documentaries."

"I think you'd be great at that."

Sam brushed off the compliment with a sigh. "You don't even know me, Lara."

"No, not yet. But I can see how perceptive you are, the way you get people to open up and tell their stories so effortlessly." Her cheeks coloured at that admission, so she quickly added another truth. "And I can see how passionate you are about it; the way your eyes light up and you get so animated as soon as you start talking about it."

For a second she thought Sam was going to leap across the table and hug her, her smile was so buoyant. "That's the first nice thing anyone has said to me about it."

Time to invert the spotlight before her smouldering cheeks burst into flame. Lara took a sip of wine to douse her bashfulness. Or maybe hurdle it.

"What are you doing over here, Sam?"

"My parents didn't want me getting tangled up in…" She shifted to a heavy Japanese accent, "_American college debauchery_." Then she added with a grin, "So they sent me to the UK of all places. Ha! Not their smartest decision."

"Your parents are Japanese?"

"My dad is. My mom's Portuguese."

"That's unusual."

Sam's smile dimmed. "No, that's a business arrangement." She tucked back into her bright red curry.

"Oh."

Lara wondered how much she had come to romanticise her own parents' relationship in their absence. But despite all the stories of divorce, dour-faced unhappiness and, sometimes, flat out cruelty she'd heard from the girls at her school, she still could only ever picture her parents as adoring of one other as they were of her.

Amelia Croft standing with her arm draped over her husband's shoulder as he sat prodding maps and book passages at his desk.

That time they fox-trotted around a camp fire in Mongolia, while Lara lay half-watching-half-dozing in her sleeping bag.

Looking back on those moments, the young Englishwoman couldn't imagine ever having something like that. She was completely disconnected from that sort of thing. She didn't really have anyone – even Roth was tighter with Reyes than her.

So the question slipped out without her even realising it.

"Why this tonight, Sam? Why me?"

The American girl in cheerful socialite mode was irresistible. When she expressed her secret vulnerable side though – when she was unguarded and completely emotionally honest – Lara felt a stronger pull to her. An affinity. For a second they didn't seem so different.

Sam murmured, "Moving here has been hard. I don't have many friends. I guess you don't either?"

"No."

"Looking at you, that blows my mind."

Lara flushed. Smiling shyly, she looked away. "Sam, stop saying that. I'm nothing special."

The American student waved her hand dismissively. "Whatever. There's something about you. I want to solve the mystery of Miss Lara…" She let the statement dangle incomplete.

Lara helped her out. "…Croft."

"Good. That'll make online stalking you easier."

Lara's face fell.

"I'm only kidding, sweetie. Well, a little bit. Are you finished?" The way she jumped topics, it was disorientating sometimes.

Lara looked down at her plate. Yeah, she had eaten enough. She nodded.

Sam beamed in return, "Great."

She signalled for the bill, which the English girl noted was paid for with a platinum card.

It wasn't until she stood to leave that Lara realised how drunk she was. She felt completely disconnected from her body. She wanted to wave her hands in front of her face, but that would be a giveaway as to how uncharacteristically smashed she was.

Standing outside on the pavement though, she let a stupid grin spread over her face. Everything, inexplicably, just seemed so damn funny – from the realisation that she had put her jacket on inside out, to the bouncy strut of the Yorkshire Terrier being walked across the street.

Sam was watching Lara, looking so much more collected than the archaeology student. She seized her companion's hand. "Come on. We're gonna have some fun; unleash that closeted party girl I know is dying for a night on London Town."

* * *

Lara woke facedown on her bed the next day. She was lying on top of the covers, still wearing her jacket (right way on, at least), but stripped down to just panties and socks below the waist. Her jeans and sneakers were piled in the middle of the floor like some Twenty First Century cairn.

Her phone lay next to her hand on the mattress. Just lifting her head to locate it triggered a deep, resonant throbbing in her skull.

The pain was forgotten though as soon as her eyes focused on the screen. First there was the time – already 11:43. Lara had missed two lectures. Then there were the seven friend requests, as well as text messages from numbers she didn't know.

_Hey, Lara, great meeting you last night. Want to grab a coffee sometime?_

_Lt me knw whn ur up 4 da peircing._

_UR rite FIT, luv! :)_

What had happened last night?

Her body immediately burped tequila in response.

The second clue took the form of her brand new phone background.

Galvanised by the image, she set to work as if she already were a qualified archaeologist –pawing, blowing and brushing away dirt. More precisely, but just as gingerly, she opened her Photos folder.

Aghast, hand over her mouth, she swiped through the dozen pics.

_Christ, she didn't remember any of this._

Notable images included her dancing on a nightclub's speaker with Sam; the two of them surrounded by what looked like half a very drunk rugby team; and a photo of her giving the thumbs up while Sam snogged some guy behind her.

Then there was the new phone wallpaper: a selfie of Lara and Sam, both horribly wasted. The American girl was at least pouting in the direction of the camera. Lara's face was pressed into the crook of her companion's neck. Her eyes were closed but she sported a big grin.

Very much like her grin at that exact moment.


	2. Chapter 2

**First time for everything - Sam**

_Note: This is an extract from my fanfic Can't Go Home._

They were in their second year of university, living in a third floor flat that was just a five-minute walk to campus. Sam had shocked her parents by sticking through her freshman year; proving that for the first time in her life she was actually committed to something academically. Her parents had bought the cosy two-bedroom apartment for her as a reward.

Naturally, Lara was her roommate; an arrangement that Sam's parents were delighted about. They loved Lara – polite, self-disciplined, of the landed British gentry. They were exceptionally happy that such a straight-laced, responsible young woman was keeping an eye on their daughter. Being a good influence… or so they thought.

Sam's biggest priority, meanwhile, was taking some of the financial strain off Lara, who for some bull-headed reason refused to accept her substantial inheritance. Instead, she supplemented her small academic bursary with work as a tutor, a barmaid and a research assistant. All too often in First Year, Sam had found Lara in her dorm room, out cold on a nest of books and notes. She had been too exhausted to party, and Sam couldn't have that.

Still, after a particularly frantic term, even Lara was keen to let her hair down. She had happily agreed to go out with Sam in celebration of the impending Easter long weekend. Uncharacteristically, she hadn't complained once when Sam lined up a "snowboard" for them to share – a row of shooters sampling every alcohol they had in the flat.

Having downed five shots each, nicely buzzed, they staggered out into the street.

After gorging on shawarmas, they ended up at one of the pubs popular with the student crowd. Sam was busy playing the Exotic Asian American card, trying to explain the game of beer pong while she flung darts with three guys from the varsity swimming team. At some point in the evening she realised Lara was no longer standing at her elbow.

Sam scanned the pub. Eventually she spotted Lara through the crowd, leaning on the bar counter, talking to Dan Perkins.

Dan was in Sam's filmmaking class. He was working towards a career in wildlife documentary-making, and most weekends trekked off into the middle of nowhere with the campus hiking club. He was tall and rangy, and Sam had wanted to jump his bones for a while. However he had eyes only for Lara, and Sam was forced to admit that Miss Mountaineer made a much better match for him. Lara of course had kept her skittish distance for months, recognising Dan's interest but not wanting to lead him on. Tonight though, her guard was down. And she seemed to be very, _very _receptive to his attentions. She was nodding and laughing at everything he said, while, in typical endearing Lara-fashion, struggling to meet his gaze.

Five minutes later, when Sam looked back, Lara and Dan were making out against the wall. When she looked a third time, Lara was_ really _into Dan, riding his thigh as she slid her hands up the back of his shirt. After that, they had vanished. Sam felt a prickle of worry for her friend, but then she thought about Roth and all the SAS training he'd given his ward, and she felt considerably better. Sam was sure Lara could look after herself. Even if she was completely smashed.

Sam chuckled to herself. It probably shouldn't have surprised her to see her best friend like that. Lara's energy seemed endless at times. It made sense that when she had appetites they were voracious. And just as she applied her signature focus to every interest or activity she tackled, she would satisfy her sexual desires with the same all-consuming intensity. Sam could imagine she would be incredible in bed. Long lean limbs, insane stamina, hardening from soft to steel as she took charge.

Rather amused that she was contemplating her best friend's sexual prowess, Sam slid into the lap of one of the swimmers, and immediately began complimenting him on his strong shoulders...

* * *

The next morning, Sam was lying on the couch watching Fashion TV when the familiar jangle of keys outside told her Lara was back. Her friend slipped into the apartment, closing the door silently like she usually did on a Sunday morning when she didn't want to disturb a partied-out, still sleeping Sam, but was ready to start her usual routine – an hour-long jog, followed by a visit to the corner shop for some muffins and the weekend paper.

After locking the door, Lara turned. She startled at the unusual sight of Sam wide awake and leering at her at the ungodly hour of…. 8:30am. The two women looked at each other, sharing pretty much the exact same thought. _Busted, Lara Croft! You're not getting away so easily. I've waited a long time to tease you about this._

Lara leaned back against the door with a resigned sigh. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. That was her surrender.

Sam cleared her throat and smirked, "Why, Miss Croft, I don't think I've ever seen you like this before?"

"Like what?" Lara responded with a coy smile.

"Thoroughly fucked."

"Sam, Jesus!" Lara's cheeks instantly coloured. A second later though, the self-satisfied grin was back.

"Oh, don't be so shocked, sweetie. Even if your shirt wasn't on backwards and you didn't have A-grade sex hair, there's the two hickeys on your neck."

"What? Shit!" Lara dashed to the bathroom. Sam knew she'd be fingering the bruises while she examined herself in the mirror. There it was again. "Shit!"

She returned from the bathroom, rubbing her throat. "I'm working tonight." Still frowning, she plonked herself down on the seat next to Sam. Her friend moved aside her legs to make more space.

Sam could understand Lara's irritation with herself. It was an unusually warm April. Scarves and high collars were out. There was nothing she could do to inconspicuously cover the marks. Although it wouldn't be malice-driven, Lara would be ragged mercilessly by the regulars at the Nine Bells. It had taken her a long time to earn respect from the pub locals, who had initially dismissed her as just another pretty, ponytailed barmaid who looked good in a tank top. Their opinion had changed however when the same unassuming barmaid defused three football-related fights in quick succession. Thanks to Roth's teachings of course.

"Well, sweetie," Sam slapped her palm down on Lara's knee, "At least the tips tonight should be good."

That finally made her friend smile again.

Sam cocked her head, "Soooo, what was it like?"

"What?"

"What do you think?"

Realisation hit the history nerd. Lara's eyes widened as her mouth formed a perfect circle. "Oh." Her cheeks flushed.

"Come on Lara, I always tell you."

"Yes, and I never_ asked_ for that, thank you. You really think I need to catch Tom Hewitt's eye in class and know he has a birthmark shaped like a star on his left testicle?"

"Shut up, bitch, you know love it. Your life would be so boring without me."

When Lara remained tight-lipped, the American girl triggered her signature pout-and-whine combo. "Pleeaaasssseeee?"

As usual it took less than ten seconds for the corner of Lara's mouth to twitch into the special soft smile she reserved only for Sam.

"Come on, sweetie, tell me."

Lara dropped her gaze.

"It was nice." She chuckled as she looked down at the calloused fingers and palms she was always so self-conscious about. "Really, really nice."

She swung her face back to Sam, flashing a big dumb grin.

"Post-coital suits you, Lara."

"I do feel good. It's been a _very_ long time." She stretched out her legs and tousled her hair.

"God, you make it sound like you're thirty."

Lara batted Sam with a cushion. Then she leapt to her feet. "I need a hair of the dog. What can I get you?"

"Lara, it's what? Nine in the morning?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I just… Just let me enjoy this for a little longer, okay?"

"Lara Croft, have I finally brought you over to the dark side? And all it took was a couple of Jager Bombs and some consequence-free fucking."

"Sam!"

"Ah, you like it, sweetie. Deep down you're a bad girl. It's a good thing you spend so much time in the library hunched over dusty old books and maps. Otherwise you would've had your wicked way with every man on campus by now."

Lara arched an eyebrow. "Just the men?"

Sam had burst out laughing at that. Sexually charged playfulness was so uncharacteristic of her bookish friend. "Oooh, Lara, you _are_ a bad girl! You've been holding out on me for way too long."

Lara let her bottom lip slip into a seductive pout. She managed to sustain it for all of three seconds before she started giggling herself.

Sam watched her stumble into the kitchenette – Lara, practically glowing, partially hung-over, 100% goofy as she pottered around behind the counter. She was humming as she decided which alcohol would work best in her tea. She popped a jaffa cake between her teeth. With it jutting out from between her lips, she looked up and moaned suggestively, making Sam laugh again. Her hazel eyes met Sam's and they were so happy.


	3. Chapter 3

**The elephant in the room - Sam**

_Note: This is an extract from my fanfic Can't Go Home._

Sam paused.

This was probably going to be awkward.

So she was in no rush to insert the key into the front door and enter the apartment. It felt more appealing to just remain standing on the threshold, loaded with her camera, tripod and textbooks for the day's lectures.

She and Lara had been roommates for three weeks already, sharing an off-campus flat as they began their second year of studies. Of course, they shared the space with a third flatmate. The big-ass elephant in the room. The realisation that moving in together had probably been a mistake.

Neither of them had said as much. In fact they were probably too scared to admit it out loud. But they were both thinking it, particularly after the events of Saturday morning.

After a night out clubbing, Sam was lying on the couch, eating cereal from the box, when her flatmate shuffled out of her bedroom and into the kitchenette. It was a rare occasion when Lara Croft revealed herself to be a vulnerable human being, and not a serene, too-perfect goddess slumming it with the mortals. Right then was one of those blue moon moments.

Usually so effortlessly gorgeous, Lara looked terrible. She was hunched in her old plaid bathrobe, red nostrilled and clutching a tissue. Sam knew she had worked back-to-back shifts at the Nine Bells the night before, despite "feeling poorly" as she described it.

Sam should have known things would head rapidly south when Lara found the shelf empty of mugs, and was forced to salvage a used cup from a pile in the sink.

Once she'd rinsed it, Lara opened their pantry cupboard and began groping inside. After practically forcing her head in-between the shelves, she called, "Sam, where are the tea bags?"

"Oh, I haven't been to Tesco yet."

Silence. Ominous silence. Sam looked up. Lara was frozen, looking at her.

"What?" the American girl asked, her mouth full of Frosties.

Lara's voice was as empty of expression as her face. "I asked you to do one thing, Sam..."

"Jeez, Lara, relax, it's not the end of the world."

"One. _Thing_!" The Englishwoman slammed her first down on the counter.

Sam stared at Lara, shocked.

They'd known each other for over a year, yet despite how often Sam's ditziness had provoked an exasperated sigh or eye roll from her best friend, Lara had never raised her voice before. Let alone lost her temper so dramatically.

The Englishwoman stood there, shivering and glowering simultaneously.

Eventually she threw up her hands. "Fuck! _Fine_!" She yanked off her robe, exposing her favourite oversize sleep shirt and boxers underneath. "I'll go then."

She stomped off into her bedroom.

When Lara emerged dressed, Sam tried to placate her.

"Come on, sweetie, it's really not a big deal."

"It is. To me." Lara's voice cracked over the last syllable and Sam thought she was about to burst into tears.

_Never get between the English and their tea._

Lara shrugged on her jacket and glared one last time at Sam before slamming the door behind her.

The archaeology student had calmed down a bit by the time she returned, staggering with the weight of her shopping bags. She was still fuming, though, torn between her initial anger and embarrassment about her overreaction.

Sam was waiting with her biggest olive branch smile. "You didn't have to work a double shift last night, Lara. I've told you."

Two clipped syllables in response.

"Don't start."

That was the end of their conversation. After unpacking the groceries, Lara finally made her cup of tea and retreated to her room for the rest of the day.

Sam washed the dishes. She vacuumed the lounge. She folded the laundry. She even heated some soup and served it to Lara in bed. Still, her roommate refused to look up from her book and talk to her.

Eventually, tired of receiving the cold shoulder, the American girl decided to spite Lara. The young woman hated Sam's other crowd of friends. She thought they were a bad influence, spurring each other on to commit various acts of varying degrees of illegality.

She wasn't wrong. Sam always got drunk with them quickly so she could blame her actions on alcohol-saturated morals and a general lack of self-control. Excuses were better than having to continually think about what she was doing.

But this little exploit was all about pissing Lara off.

Or at least earning a disapproving acknowledgement of her presence. That should be easy enough – Sam had years of experience provoking her parents.

Before leaving, she stuck her head around her roommate's door.

"Yeah, I'm going out with Carlos, Em and Lou."

Lara didn't even lift her eyes from the page in front of her. "Have fun."

* * *

Three days later, and there was still a frosty over-politeness in their interactions. Maybe they had overestimated their friendship and really were too different to live together?

Sam sighed and unlocked the front door.

Music blaring from the iPod docking station.

Cushions strewn around the lounge.

Three empty beer bottles on the kitchen counter, surrounded by the debris of sandwich making – a deserted block of cheese, a half-sliced tomato, an open bottle of pickles and a loaf of bread left with slices spilling out onto the breadboard. It wasn't uncommon for Lara to geek out over a theory and wander absent-mindedly away from whatever she was doing, but she would never leave such a mess.

_Jesus! Had they been broken into?_

Sam dropped her books and equipment on the armchair. Her cry came out more strident than she intended. "Lara?!"

Her roommate bounded out of the bedroom. "Sam, hey, you're back!"

Like an excited puppy, Lara bounced up to her roommate, grinning madly the whole time. "I'm so happy you're home."

She flung her arms wide and then snared Sam in a bear hug. Chuckling the whole time, she lifted her American companion and spun a full 360 degrees.

Something was seriously, _seriously_ wrong.

Her feet back on terra firma, Sam gently disengaged herself from the embrace. "Sweetie, are you al…?" A step away triggered a second, impossible to suppress question. "_What _are you wearing?"

Lara was in ridiculous shorts, skin-tight, cut off barely two inches below her crotch. Sam didn't think her friend possessed anything like that in her cupboard.

The American girl couldn't stop herself staring. God, her friend's legs went on for miles. You didn't normally see them. Lara wasn't self-conscious about her looks so much as she was modest and fearful about attracting attention for the wrong, superficial reasons. She ran in track pants and Sam had yet to coax her into a bikini. Showing off her body was out the question.

Right then, Lara was looking at her, open-mouthed, adoring. "You are so beautiful. You're glowing."

Then Sam spotted it. On the kitchen counter, half obscured by the pickle jar. A mangled piece of tinfoil, its sides torn back like petals to reveal the sweet chocolate nectar at its centre.

Carlos's special brownies. She'd been so out of it after her Saturday night exploits that she'd just shoved the "care package" in the fridge. Her roommate wouldn't have suspected anything.

Lara had tracked Sam's gaze. Her enthusiasm immediately bubbled over again.

"Oh my God, those brownies are soooo good, Sam. They are AMAZING! I think I had an orgasm in my mouth."

Straitlaced Lara Croft actually talking about sex? _Oh no._

"Lara, how many of those have you had?"

"One or two… Four." She snorted.

Sam took hold of her friend's triceps.

"Lara, hey, you need to stop, sweetie, okay?"

The Englishwoman ignored her. She seized her friend's hand, "Dance with me, Sam."

"Lara…"

"That's my name, don't wear it out."

Lara hauled Sam into the centre of the lounge.

Even with her incredibly physical prowess, the Englishwoman had next to no dance skills. Sober, she was too stiff; drunk, too limp and uncoordinated. High, her every gyration seemed to stem from a different musical genre – hip-hop, punk, adult contemporary.

It was hilarious. But also horrifying. Sam couldn't enjoy the sight of Lara Croft completely cut loose because her friend was oblivious of the unmooring. And Sam was the one who was responsible.

Lara cocked her head. "Why aren't you dancing?"

"How do you feel, sweetie?"

"Really good. I haven't felt this happy in a long time." She threw back her head and laughed, euphoric. "God, and hungry. I'm fucking famished."

Before Sam could respond, Lara had closed the gap between them.

"Come here." Grabbing Sam by the hips, the Englishwoman pulled her companion's back against her front. Pressed together like that, Sam could feel Lara's breasts against her shoulder blades; the delicious rolling way her friend was grinding her pelvis against Sam's. Lara continued to guide the American's response, her fingers hooked over Sam's hip bones. Not that she needed to. Sam was shocked at how instinctually her body responded, matching its motion to Lara's.

"There we go," purred into Sam's ear.

It felt great.

Sam was tempted to reach behind her and cup the back of Lara's skull, drawing her face back within reach. As if sensing her friend's fantasy, Lara's palms began to slide across Sam's body. One climbed up over her stomach; the other slipped south…

"Whoa!"

Sam jerked away. At a distance of five feet, she turned back to her roommate.

Lara looked startled; confused; and finally ashamed. Her hands were still frozen where they'd been on Sam's body, embracing an invisible partner. She stammered, "I – I'm sorry."

There were a dozen things the American girl could have said, but the most prominent thought was that none of them was right. They'd only make the situation worse; embarrass each other more. This wasn't Lara Croft standing in front of her. She would never act like this normally. She wasn't herself. And that was entirely Sam's fault. She couldn't let Lara shoulder any guilt for her actions.

The filmmaker slowly approached her friend. She initiated a new embrace. "No, I'm sorry."

Placated, Lara rested her cheek against Sam's shoulder. Then she pulled back. Her face was earnest. The effervescence gone. "Please, let's not fight anymore."

"You're gonna hate my guts tomorrow, Lara."

The Englishwoman shook her head. "Never. I love you, Sam." The goofy grin returned. "You know that, right? I really love you."

Light-hearted Lara didn't emerge nearly often enough. Beautiful, exhilarated, she was impossible to resist. Sam returned the bashful smile even as she was pulled into a fresh hug.

"We're going to have so many awesome adventures together, Sam, I know it."

"BFFs, Croft."

"You know it, Nishimura."


	4. Chapter 4

**You could do better - Lara**

_Note: This is an extract from my ongoing M-rated fanfic Easier to Run._

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Lara had returned to the booth to find Sam's date sprinkling some sort of power into the girl's drink. Sam was still in the nightclub bathroom, freshening her make-up and hair. She was giddy at the prospect of hooking up with the textbook tall, dark and handsome Masters student.

At that moment, though, Loverboy was trying to play down his actions by dialling up the charm. He smiled at Lara, still standing before him. "It's all good, love. It's just a little something to help take the edge off. It's nothing bad, I promise."

Lara pushed the glass across the table towards him. "Then you drink it."

His smile wavered. It was blink-and-you'd-miss-it, but it was enough.

Lara backhanded the glass into his chest.

"What the fuck?!" He began pawing at his sopping, instantly sticky shirt.

Fortunately the club was too busy and noisy for anyone to notice the commotion. Not that Lara cared at all at that particular moment. She planted her fists on the table and leaned in towards him. It was a risky move. He was furious, and he easily had thirty pounds on her if he decided to retaliate. But Roth's teachings had yet to fail her at The Nine Bells, and this situation was little different to the altercations she frequently defused in that dingy backstreet pub.

_Tone is the most dangerous word in the English language, girl. Use it to your advantage. _

Lara locked eyes with Loverboy. She didn't raise her voice. She didn't even bother with a facial expression. Her hard, unblinking stare was good enough.

"Go now," she said. "And don't you EVER speak to Sam again, do you understand me? Or the next thing of yours that ends up in her drink will be your freshly removed testicles."

Without ever looking away from her – evidently afraid she'd lash out like a cobra if their gazes disengaged – he slipped out from the booth, and scurried across the dance floor.

Even after she sat again, Lara continued to glare at the point where he disappeared. She was seething. She didn't think she'd ever been so angry before.

She was so worked up in fact that she didn't notice Sam's return. Standing before the booth, the American's eyes kept darting between her best friend and the opposite empty seat.

She murmured, "Where is he?"

Without a chance to cool down, all Lara could respond with was a monosyllabic "He had to go." She delivered it flatly, almost petulantly, scowling at her hands on the table.

Sam's disappointment flared into rage. "Lara, what did you do?!"

The archaeology student swung her face up towards her companion.

"Sam, he –"

"No!" The American girl snapped. "You know what? I'm not interested. You always do this, Lara. No one is ever good enough for you, so you go around sabotaging other people's relationships. You're so Goddamn selfish."

There were a hundred retorts Lara could have made, but she was stunned by her best friend's tirade.

Sam shook her head. "I know you're on a mission to fast track your future; happily end up as some spinster professor with your grey hair in a braid, surrounded by books and whatever crap you dug up; sipping tea and wearing frayed sweaters with elbow patches…"

_That didn't sound unappealing, actually_.

"But that's not me, Lara. I'm not you however much you'd love me to be sitting at your side; two old biddies with dusty, dried up kooses." Evidently the image amused her because she managed a laugh in the middle of her outburst.

It did seem to soften her mood at least. "You only live once, Lara. So just stop it. Stop interfering in my life. Stop trying to turn me into a nun like you."

That rankled. All that pent up rage found its release. The Englishwoman muttered, "You don't have to sleep with everyone who buys you a drink."

Sam's eyes widened. For an instant it looked like she was about to resume her diatribe. But she resisted. Instead she snarled simply, "Don't force your sexual hang-ups on me, Lara Croft. Now leave me the fuck alone."

She scowled once more at the archaeology student before stomping off.

Lara watched her roommate go. _God, she really had cocked up the evening. This was why she preferred the blissful quiet and safe social isolation of the library_.

Right then she remembered what she originally wanted to say to Sam. Lara sighed at her still clenched fists, "You could do a lot better."


	5. Chapter 5

**Surprise! - Sam**

_Note: This is an alternate universe story that branches off from flashback events in Can't Go Home / Easier to Run. It theorises what would happen if Lara was actively exploring her sexuality before Yamatai and how it affects her friendship with Sam. _

God, she was excited. She couldn't wait to tell Lara.

She was only supposed to be back the following afternoon, but the shoot had gone so well that they'd finished a day early. She'd just managed to catch the last train from Nottingham back to London. Not that she would have minded hanging around on location longer.

That was the thrilling bit.

The director of the documentary short had been so impressed by her suggestions that he'd asked her if she was keen for a job at his production company during the Spring vac.

Here she was thinking that the compulsory internship part of her course would be suffocating and pointless, but instead it had flung open doors. And not once was "Nishimura Media Holdings" name-dropped to give her a professional advantage. She'd done it all on her own.

_Suck it, Dad!_

* * *

It was well after 9 when she sneaked into the apartment she shared with Lara. Instead of her typical unceremonious dumping, Sam lowered her bags to the floor and silently crossed the living area. She wanted her return to be a complete surprise. It was always fun to creep up and startle her reticent, always too contemplative, flatmate right out of her head.

Sam noticed that there were a couple of beers on the kitchen counter, which was unusual but not unheard of. Under Sam's expert tutelage, Lara had been learning to relax. After a particularly stressful week the reluctant baroness and closeted party girl sometimes liked to take the edge off with a drink or two. Evidently this was one of those times.

In fact, that was great. It probably meant that Lara would be more receptive to having a celebratory shot or six with her BFF.

* * *

Sam slid open the door to Lara's room. Inside it was dim, with just the bedside lamp providing soft illumination that didn't even reach the edges of the small space. No doubt Lara had dozed off already. When she wasn't working, the English girl would inevitably end up passed out on top of her duvet before ten, still dressed and still, typically, clutching a book to her chest.

There she was, as expected.

Lara lay on her side, her back to Sam. The lamp just managed to pick out the random auburn strands in her hair.

It was probably cruel to disturb her when she was asleep – she really didn't get enough between uni and her three jobs – but Sam was too excited. It was Christmas morning; a 4:30 wake-up shouldn't be unexpected.

Sam padded silently across the room.

Two feet from the bed, she paused. "Wake up, Sleepy He–"

The words tangled in her mouth and promptly crashed onto her tongue.

Lara wasn't alone.

Up close, it was obvious.

The English girl's top was pulled way up, exposing her back and bra strap. She'd kicked off her cargoes and was only in her panties. And hands had snaked around her shoulders, and were playing with her ponytail. Woman's hands.

_Holy shhh –_

It kind of all happened at once. Sam's swallowed words. Her realisation. Lara rolling over to look at her, blinking lazily, "Sam...?"

And then Lara leaping upright, flailing, swearing and – Sam couldn't help but notice – yanking her hand out of her companion's trousers.

Sam was still trying to process the scene before her when she realised Lara was wide-eyed and yelling.

"Sam! _Jesus Christ_! What are you doing here?"

"Uh... We finished early."

It still seemed to happening entirely in slow motion. Even her words were drawn out, cumbersome in her mouth like boulders beginning to roll down a hill face. Every syllable was followed by a pause, perfectly timed with each rock bounce.

The film student found herself staring at the girl Lara was with. She was Asian. Chinese, with long silky hair past her shoulder blades. And at that moment she was topless, one arm pressed over her pert little breasts as she scrambled around on the floor for her discarded bra and top.

It seemed to take all of three seconds for her to dress again, while Lara tugged her shirt straight – so to speak – and spat out the full spectrum of foul-mouthed sailor's expletives. Roth would have been proud.

When the Chinese girl stood erect again, her eyes instantly locked with Sam's. They couldn't help it. They were the same height.

_Well, this was awkward._

The young woman's gaze tracked from Sam to Lara, and then back again. Her brow furrowed as she asked, "Lara? Is – Is this your girlfriend?"

The archaeology student barked, "_NO_!"

Sam added, "I'm her roommate."

The young woman seemed to accept the explanation, but continued to frown. Eventually she settled on a sensible swift-exit strategy. "Look, I don't know what's going on here, but clearly you two need to talk." She spoke with an unexpected twanging accent. It was too deep to be Australian though, so Sam guessed she was was a New Zealander.

The girl gestured to the door, "I'll just let myself out."

As she passed Lara, her palm settled on the English girl's forearm. Sam noticed the way the young woman's fingertips stroked the length of her friend's arm. "Lara, call me, alright? I had a really good time."

The archaeology student didn't seem to be listening properly. She looked flustered, distracted – unable to meet the girl's eyes; unable to look at Sam.

Less than a minute later, the flatmates heard the front door click shut.

That was when Lara exploded.

"Get out!"

Sam began to turn, but then changed her mind. If she left, she knew they would never discuss this, and the issue would sit there forever between them like a third person – a half-naked, ethnic Chinese, Kiwi third person.

"No."

The response came from between clenched teeth. "This is _none_ of your business, Sam. Go away."

"I don't understand..."

Lara snapped, "Do you really want me to say it? Out loud, just to add to my humiliation?"

When Sam didn't reply, Lara shook her head. Her eyes remained downcast. Flame-cheeked and hands on hips, she seemed fixated on the carpet. Eventually she muttered, "Bollocks."

Finally, something in the situation that Sam could get a handle on. She and Lara had been friends long enough for her to recognise the English girl's tone of resignation. And Lara had been friends with Sam long enough to know that brushing off the film student was like trying to shake free of a conjoined twin.

From her laundry basket, Lara seized the oversized _Archaeologists Dig It!_ t-shirt that Sam had given her the previous Christmas. She yanked it over her head. It did a marginally better job than her tank top at covering her exposed thighs.

Then she sank back onto her bed; head in hands.

Sam didn't move. She had a pretty good idea what was coming.

When Lara raised her face again, her expression was stranded halfway between blind fury and a good bawl. "What the fuck, Sam?! When will you learn to respect other people's privacy? God!"

"I – I'm sorry."

"Boundaries, Sam, boundaries! Fuck! How many times do I have to tell you? I'm a private person. Don't you get that?"

"What I don't get is why you thought you needed to sneak around about this?"

A weird look passed in a wave over Lara's face. Sam couldn't read it, which surprised her. Normally she was so good at interpreting people. It didn't matter though. It was gone in an eye blink and Lara simply looked tired.

She wove her fingers together and sighed, "I – I didn't want you to overreact."

"How could you think that?"

"Because of this. Right now."

Sam chuckled, "This is hardly me overreacting, sweetie."

"Making a big deal then," Lara snapped. "Is that better?"

Sam was crossing a monstrous hall tiled with booby-trap touch plates. One wrong step and she'd lose a leg, if not more. Lara was still scowling at her.

The American girl approached her friend tentatively. She lowered herself onto the mattress right next to her roommate. She didn't have the courage to make eye contact. Instead, she found herself picking at her nails.

_Icebreaker, Sam, icebreaker. _

She addressed her cuticles. "So, uh, is she your girlfriend?"

She felt Lara stiffen alongside her for a moment, and then relax. "No, we – we're..." She stumbled over her words and eventually murmured, "We're just messing around."

"Whoa!" Sam couldn't help it. "Lara 'Mother Superior' Croft has a fuck buddy?"

Her friend glared at her, "This is _exactly_ why I didn't want you to know." Then she clenched her eyes shut and growled at herself, "God, I cocked this up so badly."

Sam chanced a glance at Lara's expression. Normally she delighted in every opportunity to tease her flatmate and leave her red-cheeked and squirming, but right then Lara looked so completely miserable. This was Next Level Embarrassment. Time to play the supportive bestie.

"Lara, I'm sorry. I'm just a bit surprised, that's all."

That was true. During two years of friendship – including a handful of budget backpacking trips where they practically lived in each other's pockets – Lara had barely expressed interest in guys, let alone girls. Until that very evening, Sam would have said her friend's only turn-ons were books and buried treasure.

The English student swung her face towards her companion. "You – You're upset."

"Lara, I'm not upset because you're, what...? Gay? Bi?"

The brunette winced at each term as if they'd pinched her.

Sam continued, "If anything, I'm upset because I just discovered my best friend is hiding a huge part of herself from me. We've been living together for almost a year and I thought –"

Lara interrupted. "This _isn't_ a huge part of myself. Who I shag is unimportant."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

Another sullen, muttered response. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Lara! Seriously?"

The English girl slapped her hands down on her knees. "I don't know what I am, alright? I'm trying to figure things out."

She didn't add "On my own". Of course. That was typical Lara. So insistent on self-reliance even when a whole support system was waiting if she simply looked back over her shoulder.

After taking a steadying breath, Lara managed to reign in her temper again. Subdued, she explained, "I didn't want you to ever see something like that."

"What? Categorical proof that Lara Croft is a normal college girl?"

"Normal?" the brunette sneered.

"That you have fully functional hormones. Physical appetites. Drives." Sam grinned and nudged her friend in the ribs. Except there was no response to the American girl's attempts at levity. That was worrying.

Lara was staring off into space, and frowning.

Sam brought her back. "You're not ashamed about this are you, Lara?"

The look in the English girl's eyes; she didn't have to answer.

Sam seized her friend's hand. "Sweetie, hey, I'm here for you. No matter what. Loads of us are. Roth adores you." She added with a cheeky smile, "He'd probably high five you for scoring such a hot piece of ass."

"Sam!"

"I'm just kidding." She squeezed Lara's palm between both of her own. "What I'm not kidding about is how okay this is. I don't know why you thought I'd freak out?"

"I was worried it would change things between us if you knew. That you'd feel uncomfortable and pull away."

God, she looked so sad when she said that.

"Lara, I have loads of gay friends; guys mostly, but still. Plus you're my best friend. Nothing's gonna change that." She added, "And besides, this is college. It's a time for exploring. Isn't that what you're all about?"

Lara cocked her head. "Have you ever –?"

"I've kissed a girl or two. Almost had a threesome once, but the guy pushing for it was such a douchebag that it totally killed my ladyboner."

Sam decided to continue lathering on the reassurance. "Lara, honestly, if a woman was even halfway curious about what it would be like with another girl, you'd be top of her list; first prize."

Lara looked like she was about to ask something else but then clamped her lips over the question.

Sam added, "You're gorgeous, ridiculously smart and sweet."

Lara arched an eyebrow, dryly. "Go on."

"And just so adorably nerdy. It's sickening how perfect you are."

That earned the film student a return shoulder nudge.

Sam chuckled, "Lara, you're the full package. Seriously, you could get so much pussy."

"Sam!"

Despite the English girl's horrified hiss, her friend had still managed to coax a proper smile out of her. Good. Sam's preferred state was playful, and that never meshed well with Lara when she was down in the dumps.

The American girl grinned, "This is great; it makes things so much easier. I know hot guys but I know way more hot women. I can so get you laid."

Lara pulled a face. "Ugh. It was bad enough when you were just trying to set me up with blokes."

Sam winked, "So, are you a top or a bottom?"

Insecurity flashed again in Lara's wide eyes. "I – I don't even know what that means."

"Well..." _What was a good Urban Dictionary definition again?_ "Do you get the most fulfilment from getting girls off, or do you prefer it when they get you off?"

Lara seemed to seriously contemplate the question for a second. Then her face scrunched up in disgust. Sam watched all her hard work crumble like a derelict building come implosion time.

Lara grumbled, "Stop. You know what? Enough. I'm not talking about this any more."

"You could be versatile."

Lara ignored her. She stood instead. "I'm going for a run."

Sam leaned back on the mattress. "Are you sure you don't want a cold shower instead?"

The English girl began rummaging for her uni tracksuit and running shoes.

"Come on, Lara, it must be after 10 by now. You'll be mugged or hit by a car or something."

"I'll take my chances. A gang of knife-wielding chavs is better than this Inquisition."

Sam didn't move from the bed until after her flatmate was gone. Her first instinct was to retrieve her phone. Starting right then and there, she had a new personal project. She was going to find Lara Croft a girlfriend.


End file.
